


Opens The Gate Of The Heart

by rthstewart



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Multi, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:54:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21709312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rthstewart/pseuds/rthstewart
Summary: "Prepare yourselves for the roaring voice of the God of Joy!"Euripides, The BacchaeBeing a good Telmarine means Caspian isn't prepared for the God of Joy.
Relationships: Bacchus/Edmund Pevensie, Caspian/Lucy Pevensie
Comments: 35
Kudos: 128
Collections: Lucian Exchange 2019





	Opens The Gate Of The Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [be_themoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/be_themoon/gifts), [Starbrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starbrow/gifts).



> This is written as a gift for Be_themoon and Starbrow in the Lucian (Lucy/Caspian) 2019 fic exchange. These days, I get more hate and outrage for gift and exchange stories than I do for anything else. It's not part of the usual work I do and isn't part of Stone Gryphon or its associated Narnia-based stories. Please heed the rating. I choose not to use archive warnings.

"Prepare yourselves for the roaring voice of the God of Joy!"  
Euripides, The Bacchae

Wine give strength to weary men.  
And wine can of their wits the wise beguile.  
Make the sage frolic, and the serious smile.  
Let those who drink not, but austerely dine,  
Dry up in law; the muses smell of wine.  
No poem was ever written by a drinker of water.  
Bacchus opens the gate of the heart.  
Might to inspire new hopes and powerful  
To drown the bitterness of cares.

Homer

* * *

The first paragraphs are from _The Voyage Of The Dawn Treader_ , Chapter 8.

* * *

Everyone was cheerful as the _Dawn Treader_ sailed from Dragon Island. They had fair wind as soon as they were out of the bay and came early next morning to the unknown land which some of them had seen when flying over the mountains while Eustace was still a dragon. It was a low green island inhabited by nothing but rabbits and a few goats, but from the ruins of stone huts, and from blackened places where fires had been, they judged that it had been peopled not long before. There were also some bones and broken weapons.

"Pirates' work," said Caspian.

"Or the dragon's," said Edmund.

The only other thing they found was a little skin boat or coracle on the sands. It was made of hide stretched over a wicker framework. It was a tiny boat, barely four feet long, and the paddle which still lay in it was in proportion. They thought that either it had been made for a child or else that the people of that country had been Dwarfs. Reepicheep decided to keep it, as it was just the right size for him; so it was taken on board. They called that land Burnt Island.

They would have sailed away just as the sun was setting but Lucy noticed something and called her brother over.

"Edmund, a moment, please. There's something here, I think."

Caspian wondered what had distracted the Queen. Lucy was kneeling in the dirt just at the green line where beach gave way to low growing vegetation that densely covered a gently rolling slope spreading out from the shoreline and inland.

"Yes, Lu?"

"Here," she replied, patting the ground.

Edmund knelt next to Lucy and pressed his palms into the dirt. The Queen shut her eyes, rubbed soil between her fingers and let it dribble through her hands.

"What is it?" Eustace asked.

"I don't know." Caspian could not imagine what had so distracted Lucy. She, on the other hand, was an ever-growing distraction to him. Every day of their voyage had brought forth some new, fascinating facet. Queen Lucy reflected an ever-changing light like the most brilliant gem in the Narnian treasury.

Reepicheep had his sensitive nose up in the air. His whiskers were twitching. "Can you not smell it, my King?"

Eustace took a sniff and started coughing. Caspian inhaled deeply and caught a hint of something not of the sea. "Earth? And fruit?"

"It's magic, your Majesty. Very strong magic."

"Did you really need my opinion on this, Lu?" Edmund asked, sounding uncommonly dry and rising to his feet.

Caspian offered his hand to Lucy and was startled at the current of excitement surging through their joined hands as she jumped up.

She bounced on her toes and squirmed her bare feet deeper into the ground. "I am correct then?"

"Only an engraved invitation would be more welcoming," Edmund replied.

She clapped her hands. "Oh, I am so pleased!"

"You always were his favorite, Lu."

"His favorite Queen, yes, to be sure. And he did teach me everything I know. But you were always his favorite King, Edmund."

Lucy threw up her arms, twirled about, and faced the green slopes. "Yes, my Lord! We gladly accept!"

Edmund laughed, merry and light, and his eyes were shining with the same excitement Lucy had. The King then started, as if he had momentarily forgotten the rest of them on the beach. He nudged his sister.

"Ah, Lucy?"

She spun back about, as light as any Dryad. "Oh, yes. Thank you all for your patience. Edmund, perhaps you should explain to Eustace?"

"Yes, do that," Eustace grumbled, sounding a bit like his old Dragoned self.

"Right! Cousin, this way!"

Edmund put a hand on Eustace's shoulder and led him down the beach toward the rowboat. Lucy watched them go, her mouth twitching with amusement. In a whisper she confided, "Our cousin is not quite ready for this."

Caspian felt as mystified as Eustace but did not want to so show off his ignorance. "For what?"

"This island is under the protection of a Narnian god," Reepicheep said.

"Who? Which one?" Other than Aslan, his own experience with the old gods had been limited to the the richly illustrated pages of Doctor Cornelius' books. Most had been so vague and scandalously immodest, they had skipped over them. The old gods had seemed more distant than the ancient Kings and Queens themselves.

Lucy pointed at the green slopes. "Those are grape vines. Wine grapes. Bacchus and his Maenads are here. They revel in our honour this night."

"Of course," Reepicheep said with a twirl of his whiskers that seemed a mite too knowing. The Mouse bowed deeply in the direction of the old vineyard. "Thank you, my Lord Bacchus, for the gracious invitation. I shall a raise a glass in your name this evening. However, I shall return to the ship and guard the repose of their Majesties."

" _Not_ repose," Lucy put in, sounding rather sly.

"The point stands." Reepicheep bowed again. "Eustace and I shall row back to the _Dawn Treader_. We shall bring a boat back in the morning."

Lucy bowed in return. "Thank you, Friend."

Reepicheep sauntered off down the beach toward Eustace who, even from this distance, looked deeply uncomfortable and red-faced from more than sun.

"Bacchus?" Caspian asked. "He appeared at Beruna, didn't he? Along with those … _women_."

"The Maenads, yes. They didn't stay long, more's the pity." Lucy looked down at her shirt front with a scowl and brusquely brushed herself off. "With just the three of us, and here on this island, we should be able to do it properly this time, the god willing." Lucy glanced up and winked. "And Bacchus is _always_ willing."

He could feel himself blushing. The Maenads, as Lucy called them, had been shocking to Telmarine sensibility, even more so than Aslan himself. Their impacts at Beruna had assuredly been powerful. They'd torn apart a bridge and buildings and … hadn't worn much clothing at all. They had appeared appallingly shameful to the court. The Dryads and Naiads, at least, didn't really seem all that human-like and were very gentle. The women with Bacchus had been truly wild, very human, extremely dangerous and, for the Telmarines, himself included, deeply unsettling. There had been tremendous relief when they all disappeared and had not returned.

"So, Lucy, can you enlighten me? Am I included in this invitation?"

"Oh yes! Absolutely, Caspian. This revel is for the Kings and Queen come to Bacchus's Island."

"So what, then, can I expect?"

At first it seemed a trick of the intense beach light but it was the magic of the place already weaving its way about and between them. A veil lifted from his vision. He was dazzled and awestruck for the woman before him was Lucy, with her wide smile and bright eyes. But this Lucy was nearly his own height and ten years older than the moment before. She was broad and strong. Her messy, wind-blown blonde hair tumbled, unbound, about her face and her shirt, his shirt, was sliding off her bare shoulder; like the Maenads before her, she was heedless of the breast revealed.

She placed a brown, calloused hand on his chest. "You may participate as much or as little as you wish. The Maenads wish to honour you, King Caspian. You should do your duty to Bacchus. And…"

His hand went up to the shirt slipping down her arm and, gently, he tugged it back up. What would the bare skin of her shoulder feel like? What would Lucy feel like? Terrified of what he was feeling, he managed to choke out, "And?"

"I would have us honour and bless each other, Caspian, if you wish it."

He felt the heat rise in his face. Her meaning seemed plain. Yet... _Surely not._ Women never ever asked for such things; they certainly never wanted them. It was foist upon them, an unpleasant necessity to assure children.

His mouth was open but he could manage no sound. Lucy frowned and it was as if the sun went out. She patted his chest in an absent, casual way that had none of the warmth of before and shrugged out from under his hand that still tarried on her shoulder.

"Well, never you mind then, Caspian. My apologies for misjudging."

Lucy pushed passed him and waved to Eustace and Reepicheep. Eustace was at the oars and rowing faster than Caspian had ever seen, very eager to escape the island as swiftly as possible.

Another swirl of magic and another veil lifted to reveal a man eagerly striding toward them from the shore who was, as had happened with Lucy, an older Edmund. This Edmund was taller and leaner, with longer, darker hair and ten additional years of sharper angles, humours, and knives.

"Oh, Edmund, that is so much better!" Lucy cried. "You look like your old self."

"And you as well, sister." Edmund looked down at his hands, flexed them, and rubbed the side of his stubbled face. "I've even got my scars back. I had wondered how the wine lord would finesse this."

"It shall be beastly tomorrow morning but is quite lovely now."

Lucy took her brother's hand. "Come, let's get off the beach and into the old vineyard. The sun is setting, fires are kindled, and they are waiting for us."

For the first time in many days, Lucy did not take his own hand.

Edmund frowned, as if sensing the same chill. "Is all well? Caspian?"

"Fine, of course. To you, my dearest friends, I confess to feeling nervous. There is nothing like this in the Telmar court and I've experienced nothing so magical since your departure. And now, here you are, no longer in the guise of children, showing your true selves to me."

"No, this is not Telmarine but it is certainly Narnian and you are King to both." Edmund clapped him on the shoulder and took his hand. "That being said, you need not do anything you do not wish. It is for you to say what you want."

"Oh! Do you hear that!" Lucy exclaimed.

Caspian caught strange, exultant wailing and cries. So softly, it was surely the wind, voices were chanting a name.

"Is that…"

"My sisters are calling for me!" Lucy leapt forward and ran, her bare feet flying over the dirt path, her hair streaming behind her like a ship's banner caught in the breeze.

Edmund laughed. "The Maenads _love_ Lucy."

Caspian sensed that Edmund was not referring solely to the emotion of love.

"Come! The bonfire is on the other side of that rise, I think. The wine lord has summoned us."

As they walked up the slope and then down into the dell below, the vines became thicker and greener. They wound about them and caressed their arms and legs as they walked. Clusters of lustrous, dark purple grapes sprouted.

Edmund took a handful of the grapes and popped them in his mouth. "The god's grapes are like nothing else, but 'ware their effect, Caspian. They'll light a fire you'll find hard to quench."

"You are eating them!"

Edmund wiped juice from his mouth with the back of his hand. "I know what I want. You want something so badly, yet can't seem to reach for it when it is, literally, right in front of you."

"I…"

"My lord!" Edmund shouted. He rushed into the clearing and dropped to his knees before an ageless, curly-haired, beautiful youth. Feeling very nervous, Caspian followed more cautiously and knelt next to Edmund. Beneath them, the ground was no longer hard-packed ground but a cushion of vines and fragrant leaves that were softer than any bed.

"Edmund! Caspian! We are well-met! Two handsome Kings before me, on their knees! My Brother, Father Christmas, has come early this year."

Bacchus raised a wine skin to his lips and drank deeply.

It was not the greeting he would have expected from a god.

Caspian bowed his head. "Thank you, my Lord Bacchus, for your greeting and for your part in the delivery of Narnia."

"You are welcome, Caspian, and welcome here. Take your pleasure and your reward as is in my power to give."

"Edmund." The wine god spoke the King's name like as a sensual caress; his voice was rich and seductive. Bacchus put out his hands and Edmund kissed them both, palms and fingers, then mouthed the god's wrists, and rose to his feet. Caspian wondered if he was supposed to do that, too, but the wine god seemed thoroughly preoccupied with Edmund.

"Thank you, my lord, for my present, more accurate, condition. Right down to the scars."

"And I know where each of them is, my King. And might give you a new one, before this night ends."

Edmund put a hand on the god's cheek. "I have missed you."

"And why do I so long for you when you are such an insufferable mortal?"

Caspian watched, fascinated, as Edmund and Bacchus looped arms. Bacchus gestured. "This way. I have prepared a few of our favorite entertainments for old time's sake."

The bonfire crackled. Somewhere, deeper in the vineyard, amidst the growing shadows, were the sounds of pounding feet and women's cries. More faintly, he heard Lucy's name, chanted in a primal rhythm.

Hands twined about one another, the King and god were moving away to their presumed _not_ repose when Edmund turned about. "I say, Caspian, you are just standing there looking terribly confused. I had thought this was not your preference but perhaps I have assumed too much? Do you wish to join us? Though I caution that the wine god may spoil other fare for you for some time to come."

"No. No, thank you." He knew he was blushing furiously. And intrigued, excited, and hungry for what was surely going on all around him. He was glad he had not eaten the grapes. It would make this aching longing even worse. "I would not wish to intrude, of course."

Edmund laughed. "I assure you, Caspian, your intrusion would be _my intense pleasure._ "

A rumbling cloud of disapproval passed overhead. "Edmund, are you trying to make me jealous?"

"I should very much like to try, my lord."

"You would toy with a god."

"Certainly so that we might both enjoy thereafter in what would surely follow your covetous possession."

Bacchus seized Edmund by the waist and drew him close. The kiss was rough, possessive, and passionate. He'd never seen two men kiss, or a god and a man. Their hands were everywhere, in, on, and about. He was so addled, joining them seemed to be an excellent idea.

But that wasn't what he wanted. It wasn't who he wanted.

"Caspian." Bacchus sounded irritated which, plainly, was not wise. Irritating a god, and keeping that god from his pleasure, surely had dire consequences. "Do go find the woman who wants you as much as you desire her. Unless she demands it, it doesn't do to keep a Queen waiting."

"But, my lord, how can this be!" he finally burst out. "Women do not want such base things! There is no pleasure in it for wives. Certainly not Queens!"

He was deeply ashamed, hung his head, and felt humiliating anger as Edmund mockingly laughed. "Caspian, you are the King of Narnia! Try acting like it! For the sake of everyone, including your future Queen, please rid yourself of this Telmarine nonsense!"

Bacchus sighed, reluctantly untangled himself from Edmund, and stepped closer. The god traced a finger along his jaw. Caspian shuddered and pulled away.

"You _are_ _such_ a pretty, stupid thing. I do see why both Lucy and Edmund desire you so. You are quite unready for me. You know next to nothing and what you do know is wrong. Everything you know must be unlearned, Caspian. And then you must remedy your ignorance."

The god pinched his flanks, causing a flare of pain and desire mingled together. "Go. Watch. Learn how a Maenad pleases a woman. Consent to be seduced. Give to the Queen what you both so ardently desire. And if you displease Lucy or leave her wanting in any way, I shall undertake your re-education myself."

"Now who is being ignored?" Edmund had come up behind Bacchus and he slid his arms around the god's chest, one hand shoving downward, to his waist and lower, between his legs. "I like this perspective very much. I'd say it's my turn this time."

Caspian turned away and left god and King groping and grappling roughly by the firelight.

He wove his way among vines that grew and thickened even as he pushed through them. His fingers skimmed over the plump grapes and, as the chanting of Lucy's name grew louder, he plucked a handful and rolled them in his hands.

_I know what I want. It is right before me._

He pushed aside a curtain of thick vines and saw the Maenads dancing about the fire. As he approached, the women held out their arms, beckoning him.

"Our King comes!" one cried, a woman as dark as the earth.

"Not yet!" another giggled.

The Maenads parted like a wave around him. Lucy was in their midst, reclining, on the soft green cushion of the vineyard's floor. She was sitting, as a Queen on a throne, cradled between the legs of a Maenad. Other Maenads were on their knees or lying next to her, tangled about her, ministering to her, stroking her, kissing her neck, and her feet. Vines curled about Lucy's ankles and twined up her legs and thighs; a tendril had snaked around her waist and was fondling her breast.

The Maenads quieted. The fire popped and blew sparks into the black sky.

"So you decided to come after all?" Lucy's voice was rich and sounded a little hurt, maybe even angry.

"I am sorry, Lucy. Please forgive me. I can't stay away from you, from this."

"Can't? Of course you can. There is no compulsion here. You may leave at any time."

"I don't want to. Bacchus said…"

"Yes?"

"That I needed to watch what the Maenads did. And be seduced. And pleasure you."

"But is that what you want?" the Queen asked.

"Yes, if you still wish it."

Holding out his hand, he offered the grapes. Lucy took two from his palm and put them in her mouth. As she bit down, a Maenad leaned over to lick away the juice from her lips.

He ate the rest and felt the want surge through his body, heated, alive, and needful. All for the Queen, his Queen, for Lucy alone.

"Watch then, until I call for you."

She leaned back into the waiting arms and eager hands and mouths of the Maenads. "Make me want him."

Two grinning women approached him again, but they waited, respectful. "We would honor you, King, if you wish."

He managed to nod. "I do, yes. Help me. Show me."

Still, they waited.

"Touch me."

They did, slowly at first, gently, and then with a growing fervor as he responded and answered their ardent demands. They tore at his clothing, tasted his skin, and stroked his body. When he squirmed from the delight of their touch and the pain of their sharp teeth and nails, the vines ensnared him, gently, but firmly, pulled him to the ground, and wrapped about him, as intimately as any lover's touch. The Maenads dribbled wine over his body and lapped it up, tongues delicate and devastating. He drank from them in turn and felt a curl of satisfaction at having pleased even the wild women when they guided his hands and shuddered and shrieked under his touch.

And he watched, enthralled and fascinated, as the Maenads lavished worshipful praise upon Lucy's body. They plundered her mouth and Lucy arched, trembled and demanded more as they suckled her breasts; the vines parted her legs and the Maenads took turns burying their faces there.

It was excruciating, painful, and he could not tear his eyes from the sight of Maneads joyfully ravishing their Queen. Why would Lucy ever want him when such sensual glory was lavished upon her?

In a sudden fit, Lucy flung herself away from the Maenads pleasuring her. "Caspian… Please… now…"

The Maenads scattered like leaves and he fell like a stone upon her, as a starving man to a banquet. As desperate as his own need was, still he was mindful of the god's warnings. Taking a cue from the Maenads, he risked Lucy's wrath to tease until she squirmed and swore, more sailor than Queen. She threatened and scraped her nails on his arms and back. He finally relented to the greedy Queen and gave her the release she demanded, first from his hands, pushing and stroking as the wild women had taught him, and then, boldly, from his mouth, as he had seen the Maenads do. And, then, yet again, until Lucy was gasping, spent, and melting in his arms.

Then, it was Lucy's turn and she took him apart, piece by passionate, aching piece. In the end, begging as a madman in the thrall of the Maenad, Lucy surrounded him, hot, eager and wanting, first beneath and then above him, framed by starlight and the bonfire that burned brightly. The Maenads shrieked and danced. Vines wound around them, binding them, holding them fast, together and inseparable. 

* * *

"My Kings and Queen!" a hearty, if squeaky. voice cried.

"Oi, you sots, wake up!"

Caspian prised upon an eye, winced, and shut it again. _Ouch._ His head was throbbing and the sun was much too bright. Everything else ached and he could feel scratches under his…

Startled, he bolted up, and looked about. He was, somehow, fully clothed and lying on the beach. Shading his eyes, he could see Eustace manning the oars of the rowboat and Reepicheep at the bow, waving.

A shadow fell over him "The wine lord must have been pleased," Edmund said – the false appearance was back in place and the King was now younger, shorter and seemingly without any of the after-effects Caspian was feeling himself. "If you had failed in your duty, you would have likely awoken staked to an ant hill or in a bed of poison ivy."

"You mean as happened to you?"

Caspian turned toward Lucy's voice and even though the sun behind her was blinding he could see that she had also returned to the physical lie of seeming youth.

"Only once," Edmund replied tartly. "And never since. It is _remarkable_ what proper schooling can accomplish."

"Edmund?"

Even Caspian could hear the layers of request, demand, and threat in Lucy's voice.

"Yes, of course, sister." He awarded her little bow. "I'll just go help them bring the boat ashore."

Edmund sauntered off and Lucy sighed. "He shall be unbearably cheerful for the next few days."

He wanted to speak but didn't know how to acknowledge something so intimate with the Queen as the woman she was, when the guise of the girl was now before him.

Lucy held out her hand; he grasped it and let her help pull him up from the sand. The strength he felt in her arms underscored the truth of her words. "Don't be alarmed and do try to not feel odd or ashamed," Lucy said. She looked away, in the direction of the green vineyards. "I'm very glad I had the opportunity for you to learn this part of Narnia and to see and know me as I truly am."

"As am I." How could he go back to what had been before when he could close his eyes and see the exultant, passionate woman, Maenad and Queen, perched on top of him, bearing down, demanding her pleasure and her due. "Thank you, Lucy."

"This will not happen again," she said simply.

Even knowing, all along, deep in his heart, that this would be the case did not make the words any easier to hear. "That may not be so, Lucy. Maybe …"

She shook her head and pressed her fingertips to his lips. He understood her gesture but her fingers were coated with sand and he had to wipe the grit from his face.

Her sad smile was replaced with a happier, and more rueful, expression. "Sorry." Lucy gestured in the direction of the green slopes of the vineyard. "I've already said my goodbyes. You should do the same."

Lucy turned away and trotted down the beach to where Edmund was waist deep in the surf and hauling the rowboat on to the shore.

Caspian returned to the spot where Lucy had first felt the magic of the wine god and knelt in the soil. It pricked his knees in a way that the soft vines and greenery of last night had not. This time, when he picked up the dirt and rubbed it between his fingers, he smelled the aroma of heady, fruity wine and felt a jolt of intense, heated pleasure.

"Thank you, my lord, for your many gifts and your tutelage."

And then Bacchus was before him, looking more as Caspian also felt – bleary and aching from too much lovemaking and wine. Edmund had, evidently, been very thorough in his attentions.

"You are welcome, Caspian. You certainly _rose_ to the occasion and Lucy seems well pleased."

At the ribald humor, he hoped he blushed a little less than he had the previous day. To the god, he asked the wish of his heart, hoping that Lucy had been wrong. "Will we ever…"

"Lucy speaks truly though even she cannot see all ends. As is in my power, perhaps, some day, you may join again as you have here, in another guise, in another land. Or, in Aslan's own Country," Bacchus said. "First, though, there are many years, some joy, and many heartaches. Farewell, King of Narnia."

"Farewell, my Lord. Thank you."

"I leave with a warning, you uncommonly pretty and very stupid man. If I hear you have squandered my teaching and this opportunity, if I hear any mewl of complaint from your Queen, I'll turn you into a pig."

And then the wine god was gone.

_Queen?_

* * *

Thanks so much! I've hinted before at what Lucy might be up to at the Woodend Festival -- it's referenced in several stories and in her segment of Father Goose. The rest is solely for the benefit of my lovely recipient, Be_themoon who asked for a higher rated Lucy/Caspian on an island, and for Starbrow. Edmund and Bacchus nearly ran away with the story, as they tend to do. 

A huge thanks to Metonomia and WingedFlight who ran the Lucian exchange.

And wow, I've not written smut in a really, really long time. 


End file.
